The View From Here
by markymarquee
Summary: AU, Pre-Hogwarts: Everyone knew that Harry Potter would never be normal, even by wizarding standards. But, when word reaches Dumbledore that the Boy-Who-Lived has been diagnosed with Autism, normal is put to the test. An eventual Snape/Harry family story.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_: Thank you for reading this story. It is dedicated to my former students and others diagnosed with Autism, who see the world in a different way than the rest of us, and have so much to teach us.

_Warnings/Disclaime_r: (1.) I own none of this story. The characters are borrowed from J.K. Rowling. (2.) I have no beta. Apologies in advance. (3.)Lastly, this story deals with the following: implied child abuse/neglect, self harm, and autism. I do not even remotely claim to be an expert in the field, only having had the privilege to work with many of these wonderful children.

_Summary: _AU, Pre-Hogwarts: Everyone knew that Harry Potter would never be normal, even by wizarding standards. But, when word reaches Dumbledore that the Boy-Who-Lived has been diagnosed with Autism, normal is put to the test. An eventual Snape/Harry family story._  
_

**The View From Here by MarkyMarquee**

_Chapter 1_

...23...24...25...26...29.

There were twenty-nine cracks in the plaster ceiling of his cupboard. He wiped his sweaty palms on his ragged, dirt stained jeans. Numbers were predictable and easily understood. They always told you exactly what they meant- nothing more, nothing less. 5+6 would always equal 11, even if it was written 6+5 or 5+(3x2).

He knew that there would always be twenty-nine cracks in his ceiling (a prime number!), four holes in his baby blue blanket (or the square root of 16, if you'd prefer), seventy-three dark blue pin stripes on his mattress (each one _exactly_ 1/8" thick), and one stain on his pillow (from the time he'd had a nose bleed in his sleep, and had not been allowed to wash the case before the stain set in). Numbers were predictable; numbers were _safe._

People, on the other hand, were not.

There was a certain...consistency to be found in numbers that he was never able to find in people. Four would always be four- but a person smiling could be happy, or poking fun at you, or just being polite. Frowning could be angry or frustrated, crying could be happy or sad. An eye twitch could mean the difference between humor and sarcasm. Even words could have several meanings; he never understood why people would say "sweating bullets" when there was no sort of ammunition involved. Or why his uncle would turn red in the face and yell and frown and froth at the mouth, and tell him that he was about to "get it good." "Getting it good" was _never_ good.

He'd stick with numbers. They were much safer.

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

Albus Dumbledore was in a quandary.

It was very rare for him, at his age, to be surprised about anything. It was even more rare that something could leave him as...flabbergasted as the letter on his desk had.

As the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dumbledore had long ago set up a system whereby he could receive updates on his potential future students who resided or went to school in the muggle world. He would receive grade reports, information on school transfers, families moving, custody arraignments, and so on. Those small bits of information helped tremendously whenever he would have to explain to parents about accidental magic, or attempt to convince them to allow their child to attend Hogwarts.

But this...

This was...unexpected to say the least.

He stood up, walked quickly towards his fire place, threw in the crystalline floo powder, and called, "Hospital Wing!"

He was faced almost immediately with the interior Madame Poppy Pomfrey's office. The healer was seated at her desk, looking over paperwork. As the term had just started, she had a mountain of medical records from incoming first years that needed to be read, analyzed, and then filed away.

"Poppy, I need to speak with you immediately."

The hospital matron did not even turn. "Albus, can't you see I'm busy?"

The next sentence, however, caused he to freeze in her chair.

"Poppy, what is 'Autism'?"

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

Home was bad, but school was not much better.

He was in a classroom with several others "like him", but none of them were _really _like him. It was too loud. It smelled weird. And he _hated _ it. But it was better than his cupboard. His Aunt had complained, of course. Something about "freaks" and their "freaky schools" and being a "burden of the state." She talked too fast, too loud, too high. It made his ears hurt just thinking about it. Uncle was even louder, but his voice was low, and it made his chest rumble unpleasantly.

He stared at the top of his desk. His teacher, Miss Melanie, had just taken the seat across from him.

"Harry? Look at me."

He looked up, and stared at her nose.

"It's time for work, Harry. We're going to do some math. Can you get your pencil?"

Dutifully, he took his pencil from a box next to his desk. The box was covered with pictures of the ocean, which meant that it was his. Miss Melanie placed a sheet of math problems on his desk in front of him, and he looked down at it. Addition. A piece of cake.

Suddenly, one of the other boys in the room, Johnathan, started to scream.

Too much. Too much noise. It made his head hurt. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. But the noise wouldn't stop. Johnathan was just too loud. Vaguely, he noticed that his own voice had joined Johnathan's screaming. He could hear his teachers' hurried voices, but could not make out what they were saying. Their voices blended with Johnathan's and his own. And the noise put a pressure inside of his skull that he _needed_ to get rid of. Right. NOW

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

Severus Snape had been in his private quarters, reading and enjoying a nice, quiet afternoon to himself when he received an owl. It was nearing the end of July, and the students were long gone home for the summer holiday. He had finished his syllabi for the next year, prepared course materials, and had even managed to finish brewing the lengthy list of potions that Poppy had requested for the beginning of the term. There was nearly a month before students would return, and he was determined not to think about September until _at least_ the 29th of August.

The owl, requesting his presence in the Headmaster's Office in thirty minutes for an emergency head of house meeting, thwarted his plans.

And so, Severus Snape was in quite the mood as he entered the Headmaster's Office exactly thirty minutes later. He was, as always, precisely punctual, and, therefore, had missed the beginning of the meeting.

"What do you _mean _he has Autism?"

"What is it? Is it like the Dragon Pox?"

"I'm sure that there's a potion for it. Or maybe some sort of muggle medicine-"

"Albus, I _told _ you they were the worst sort of muggles!"

"Minerva, _they_ did not give it to him, I told you-"

"But how are we going to deal with him here?"

"Maybe he shouldn't come to school here after all."

No one acknowledged him as he entered the room. Snape stood there, holding the office door open, as the other three heads of house and the Headmaster argued furiously over some point that must have been made just prior to his entrance.

Severus Snape was a man of few words- he was also not one to shout if it was not necessary. Instead, he pointed his wand at the ornate stained glass window in the rear of the office, just past his colleagues, and mutter a few words under his breath.

The window exploded inward with a deafening crash; the pieces hurtled towards the teachers and then, unexpectedly dropped out of the air, about a yard from their feet.

Everyone froze and turned to face him. Snape glared at the other occupants of the room.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, Severus. So good of you to join us. Please, take a seat, and I will fill you in as to what has happened."

Snape sat down in the closest chair as his colleagues did the same. Poppy Pomfrey sat down next to him. He shot a quizzical look at the mediwitch, who simply smiled in return, saying "Thank you for the fresh air."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes, Severus, it is quite nice outside today. However, I am sure you can find a way to garner our attention next time without redecorating my office." With a wave, the glass window began to reassemble itself.

"Please, Headmaster, continue."

Dumbledore smiled wanly at the potions professor. "Very well," he began.

"I received a letter this morning from the Red Point Primary School. It appears that eight year old Harry Potter began there last September. Red Point, for those who do not know, is a muggle school for children with various special needs- developmentally, as well as otherwise. As it is a private institution, the students there generally have behavior problems that are too severe to be handled by a regular public primary. I... I knew that Harry was having some trouble in his old primary school, but none of the updates I received said anything about...well, Poppy, perhaps you best explain."

The mediwitch sighed, "The letter that Albus received this morning was merely a progress report for this past year, but it does state that Mr. Potter has been given a diagnosis of Austim. Autism is a developmental disorder characterized by deficits in social interaction and communication. It's not something that is commonly seen in magical families, firstly because it isn't as prevalent, and secondly, a magical child who receives this diagnosis is often...disposed of before the age at which they would enter Hogwarts."

"_Disposed of?"_ McGonagall looked horrified.

"Not murdered, generally," Pomfrey continued, "There are potions that, if administered to a magical child before a certain age, will block a child's magic from forming, and essentially render the child a squib."

"And after that, they become a family's biggest secret," muttered Snape, darkly.

"Correct." Pompfrey took a deep breath. "No one knows what causes Autism, and there is, therefore, no cure. If Mr. Potter were to come here, accommodations would need to be made."

"Or maybe it's a misdiagnosis. Maybe, because of his magic, he hasn't made any friends," Sprout said, sounding hopeful.

Dumbledore smiled, a slight twinkle in his eyes "Perhaps a visit to Mr. Potter's school would be in order. Minerva, Severus, what are you doing this Thursday morning?"

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

He was still screaming. Johnathan was still screaming. Everything was too loud. It hurt his head. The pressure made him feel as though his eyes were going to fall out of his skull.

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Everything was pushing out- his eyes, his brain, his _skin._ He needed it to stop.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!- **"Harry!"

On the next hit, the back of his head collided with a soft pad, instead of the cinder block wall. He growled in frustration, and turned and bit his arm instead.

"He's drawing blood, someone grab his arm!"

For the second time in a week, Albus Dumbledore found himself at a loss for words. When he entered the classroom of one Mr. Potter, he had expected to find a well kept, quiet boy, who was out of place in a school for special needs students. He had expected to return to Hogwarts, and reassure Poppy that his and her fears were unfounded. That Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, would enter Hogwarts as a normal eleven year old in a few years time.

The sight of three teachers holding the scraggly boy, trying desperately to keep him from biting his arm, while he flailed and growled at them, made him rethink his assumption.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N_: I…wow. I was overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you so much for the kind reviews!

_Warnings/Disclaime_r: (1.) I own none of this story. The characters are borrowed from J.K. Rowling. (2.) I have no beta. Apologies in advance. (3.)Lastly, this story deals with the following: implied child abuse/neglect, self harm, and autism. I do not even remotely claim to be an expert in the field, only having had the privilege to work with many of these wonderful children.

_Summary: _AU, Pre-Hogwarts: Everyone knew that Harry Potter would never be normal, even by wizarding standards. But, when word reaches Dumbledore that the Boy-Who-Lived has been diagnosed with Autism, normal is put to the test. An eventual Snape/Harry family story.

**The View From Here by MarkyMarquee**

_Chapter 2_

Mrs. Brown, Headmaster of the Red Point Elementary School, led her three visitors back down the hall towards her office. They seemed to be an odd group, these teachers from the Potter alma mater, but well meaning. When their headmaster- Albus Dumbledore?- had called her to explain that Harry had been down for admission at his parent's school since he was born, she scheduled this visit right away.

Once they arrived at her office, Mrs. Brown pulled a large file from the cabinet by the window, and sat at her desk. "I'd be more than happy to answer any of your questions about Mr. Potter. I'm sure that seeing him must have been quite a shock," she said.

After a moment, McGonagall spoke, "Is that…is what we saw…._normal_ behavior?"

"For himself, or for all children with Autism?" Mrs. Brown asked.

"Both," was McGonagall's reply.

"Well, that's a tricky question to answer. No two children with Autism are exactly alike. I could describe to you five children in our school, and you would receive five different pictures of Autism. However, in Harry's case, that behavior is typical. He appears to have an extreme noise sensitivity, which causes him to react in self-injurious ways. He also does not wait well, and can become violent if his routine is disrupted or changed in any way," Mrs. Brown said, glancing down at the folder in front of her, "This week alone, he has bit himself three times, banged his head into the wall or desk seven times, and attacked teachers or other students twice. He also has a few non-violent behaviors to contend with as well."

Dumbledore visibly winced, "Such as…?"

"Mostly OCD rituals which, if interrupted, will lead to a violent tantrum. He will also, however, destroy property on occasion- ripping up books, flipping his desk and chair, etc."

"Ahh."

Then, Snape spoke, "How is he doing academically?"

Mrs. Brown smiled, "He does well. He is a wiz at math- able to do calculations with large numbers in his head. We are trying to teach him to read, but teaching non-verbal children to read can be very difficult-"

"Non-verbal?" McGonagall looked alarmed.

"Harry is non-verbal, yes. He doesn't speak. He does, however, sign a little and make good use of a communication board to get his needs and wants met."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "Any other academic skills?"

"Well, let's see. He can write his own name. He has a lot of good foundation skills- he can identify colors and shapes from an array, he is independent in getting dressed and using the bathroom, he can work independently for up to 15 minutes. He is pretty high functioning, he can just be difficult behaviorally. It is my understanding that the Dursleys are looking to put him in a group home when he turns ten."

That caused Snape to raise his eyebrows, "How are the Dursleys handling him at home?"

Mrs. Brown sighed, "I am…not entirely sure. Petunia, his Aunt, is always so brusque when she comes in for meetings. I never see his Uncle at all. But from what she has told me, Harry can be quite a terror at home. He targets his cousin a lot, apparently."

At that, Dumbledore stood. "Thank you very much for your time, Mrs. Brown. We will be in touch."

Mrs. Brown stood as well, and reached across her desk to shake their hands, "Thank you for coming to see him."

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

"There is no way we will be able to handle him in the school, Albus. No way at all. What if he bites someone? Or attacks a teacher?" McGonagall looked distraught, as she paced in Dumbledore's office after returning to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "But what will we do with him? People will be expecting him to start school here in a few years. And boys often begin to have bursts of accidental magic around his age. He would need to be contained."

"So then, what are you proposing?" asked Pomfrey.

"I am proposing that we strip him of his magic. He will be too powerful to leave unchecked and untrained. And, perhaps, it will make his life easier. Severus, could you please brew the potion?"

~*~*~*oOo *~*~*~

…Five…Six…Seven…Eight. Eight stirs of the pasta. It was done now. He knew this because he'd set the timer for eight minutes, and it had just gone off. He reached down into the cupboard and grabbed the colander, and then placed it in the sink. Carefully, he lifted the steaming pot off the stove, and carried it to the sink. He poured the contents into the colander and set the pot down on the counter. He picked up the handles of the colander, and began to shake the pasta lightly.

One…Two…Three…Four…F-***KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK***

The colander dropped into the sink as Harry began to flap his hands wildly. The door opened and he could hear voices, hushed and quick, in the hallway. He ran to his cupboard, and closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Mrs. Dursley. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and this is my colleague, Severus Snape-"

"YOU!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Petunia, me. I see that you appear to still be in command of your facilities."

She glared in return. "Thank goodness you've come. I've had it with _that boy_. He's nothing but trouble since he landed on our doorstep. We didn't want him- he's a freak, and he belongs with _your kind_. But now he's turned into even more of an abomination than Lily was!" Petunia snipped as she led her three guests from the hall to the couches in the living room. She sat primly on a pastel pink loveseat covered in lurid purple flowers. She did not ask her guest to get comfortable.

"We are unable to take him with us, Mrs. Dursley. As you are the Potter family's only next of kin, I am afraid that you are really the only choice of guardian we have. I trust, however, that the funds being given to you for the boy's care are more than sufficient." Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling the tips of his fingers together, "We have come to the conclusion, based on a visit to young Harry's school, that he will not be able to attend Hogwarts due to his…disability. It is within our power to give him a potion that will render him magic-less. As his guardian, Petunia, would you be willing to strip him of his powers?"

Petunia looked like she had hit the lottery, "So he would stop doing freaky things? We would stop getting visits from people like _you?"_

"In our world, it would be as though he had never existed."

"Then yes. Do it. And then go away. He's in the cupboard under the stairs. He likes to hide there." She stood up, and then marched out of the room."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed, "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"You brought the potion?"

"Yes."

"I can't…I can't bear…"

Severus stood up and walked out of the room alone to find the boy.

He stopped in front of the cupboard. It was small, dingy, and had a simple sliding lock on the outside. Currently, the lock was undone. He crouched, and gently, slowly, pulled the door open. He paused, as he looked at the boy inside, comforting himself by drawing shapes in the air with one finger as though it were a colored marker. Light shown throughout the room-purple figure eights, green squares, red stars, and blue triangles. His face looked so peaceful and relaxed, and one thing became abundantly clear: He, Severus Snape, could not strip this boy of his magic.


End file.
